


Go softly

by withered



Series: Who's been lovin' you good? [24]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Rhodey x Carol blink and you'll miss it, The nonsense continues, Tony just wants to make people happy, bucky deserves nice things, bucky likes soft things, that's the story, there is a stuffed bear and a baby and a fade to black blowjob, tony is a giver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Tony’s got a people-pleasing streak a mile wide, making sure Barnes had the softest things in life was a purely selfish endeavor.





	Go softly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ossifrage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ossifrage/gifts).



> I would like to launch a formal complaint against Kat. You're a terrible influence. This fic is your fault.

 

It starts with a stuffed bear.

The influence is obvious between the redesigned navy double-breasted jacket, the blue button eyes and the prosthetic arm. It’s also soft, fluffy and downright adorable. Objectively speaking. The focus groups loved it and Tony is inordinately pleased to add Toy-Maker to his resume.

Even if it is because of Barnes which –

 _Alright fine_ , they have a history; it’s bloody and bitter, and that’s not even taking into consideration the whole _he murdered my parents_ chapter of their story.  Barnes had shot him right in the face in their first meeting, and don’t even get Tony started on the bunker incident.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when Barnes agrees to be housed with Tony for the duration of his probation period.

That Tony had agreed too had Rhodey and Pepper oozing glare-y, bordering-on-hostile “hurt him and you really will be a ghost story” pheromones even two weeks down the line since Barnes’ arrival.  It was not an unpopular stance.

It seemed there was a general consensus that even if Tony was the one with all the power in this situation – the Tower being Tony’s home, New York being the city he personally claimed, the Accords council at his beck and call, the revolving door of newly minted agents and New Avengers at the Tower intermingling with SI staff, and the literal legion of Iron Man suits at his command – that Tony was the one in danger here _._

Barnes deserved his due credit, but _seriously?_

The guy’s is an amnesiac, he’s spent the past seventy years imprisoned, tortured and under mind-control. He’s been through enough.

Ergo, the bear.

“It’s great, huh? It’s already getting buzz for the whole inclusivity thing which is a bonus, and the projected profits will put a sizeable chunk in providing Resilience-Tech prosthetics to people that need them,” Tony informs. Let it be said that whatever feelings Pepper had about Barnes, she’d never let an opportunity to do good pass her by. “The marketing team is stuck for a name which is ridiculous, clearly we should be calling this the Bucky Bear,” he continues, grinning at the plush in his hands.

He expected Barnes’ silence. The Super Soldier could pass a week with barely one word in ten, Tony had Friday keep count.

What Tony didn’t expect was the naked awe on Barnes’ face as he stared down at his teddy-bear counterpart.

“Barnes?”

“It’s so…soft…”

“Only the best,” he boasts. “Did you see the arm?” Bucky Bear wasn’t his first toy creation, (though the first he’d been as involved with, nothing quite said “I forgive him” like making the man a toy in his likeliness) but the little star and stripes designed on plush-Bucky’s prosthetic as a replacement for the single Soviet star was a stroke of marketing-PR genius.

“It’s great,” Barnes murmurs, fingers brushing almost reverently against the bear’s mimic of his prosthetic. “I…you made this?”

“Yup, how’d I do?” Tony teases, brows wiggling.

Barnes doesn’t reply which – fair enough.

He doesn’t have the best track record for the whole talking thing, even Tony knew he was pushing it, so he didn’t wait too long for the silence to lapse into awkward territory before saying, “Figured we should get your approval before we move onto final production, so, yay or nay?”

Looking at his outstretched hand – in Howard’s signature “Look What I Did, Marvel at it” showman gesture – Barnes went through the whole spectrum of human emotion: confused, surprised, angry, guilty then sad before finally defaulting, and wow, his face must be tired, that was a lot of emoting for someone with resting murder face.

He held the bear almost protectively to his chest. “I…no, no I don’t like it.”

Now Tony was baffled. “No?” He was all for constructive criticism, but he needed more to work with then ‘I don’t like it’.

“No…I…I don’t like the design, on the prosthetic,” he elaborates then flushed.

 “You’re the most recognizable with the star on the arm,” Tony informs slowly as Barnes grows uncomfortable, glancing at the door and then (bafflingly) the window like he was planning to beat a hasty retreat via a twenty-story jump. “And a mock “Star and Stripes” decal replacing it will go over great for your public image.”

“I don’t…” He licked his lips anxiously and began to mutter to himself, grumbling in Russian as he grew frustrated, “ _Can’t tell him I don’t want to belong to any country, do I?”_

One of his brows arched in disbelief. “Uh, yeah, of course, you can.”

Barnes’ head snapped up to look at him, eyes wide, but Tony’s already off on a tangent, slapping his forehead at his own absentmindedness. “Jesus, what a mess. I know first-hand what a country’s taste for war is like. God knows Carol and Rhodey have been beating down all the military requests for to you return to service. You’re not a soldier, at least not anymore. It wouldn’t be fair to make you a walking representative of American might, especially after what Hydra did.” His mind raced with all the possible consequences before overriding and filling with possible replacements for the star, gotta keep movin’ forward.

He turns on his heel. “Back to the drawing board.”

“Stark…uh, here.”

He turned again, eyes crossing as Barnes offered up the Star-and-Stripes badge from the bear’s prosthetic.

Noting the way Barnes was still holding the Bucky Bear protectively against his chest as if daring Tony to take it from him but at the same time, as if he was afraid that Tony would. Tony ignored the bear completely. With more tact than he was usually credited with, he silently accepted the badge and then marched back into the elevator, almost falling over when Barnes whispered with heart-breaking sincerity, “Thank you”.

Pointedly righting his stride and ignoring the movement at the corner of his eye when Barnes lifted the stuffed bear to his face to feel the fabric against his skin, and the way a relieved smile curled tentatively at his lips. Tony came to the strange conclusion that Barnes looked _almost happy –_

Tony shook his head in disbelief.  “What was up with that?”

“He likes soft things,” Friday replies, and if she could, she’d probably be shrugging. “He had a very strong response to the silk sheets in his room.”

“By strong you mean…”

“That would be a breach of privacy,” the AI reminds.

Which either meant Barnes had jacked off to silk sheets or –

“He…he cried,” Friday continues reluctantly, “I couldn’t find a plausible reason as to why, but I was concerned that it was upsetting him, so I got them changed out with something slightly coarser. Was that…right?”

“Oh, baby girl, you’re a darling,” he coos, patting the wall of the elevator and flashing her camera an encouraging smile. “Has there been any other…incidents?”

She paused, considering. Before, “I think…he liked the towels? And the pillows. His reaction wasn’t as strong, but he…”

“Looked all amazed?”

“Yes…has Mr. Barnes not…felt those things before?”

Tony flashed her another smile, patting the wall again as if to comfort her.

Friday had grown a lot since her activation, but she wasn’t as all-knowing as others attributed her to be. Her understanding of human interaction and feelings could only be posited by what she read about and observed, and they’ve never had anyone like Barnes around before. There were still things she was unsure of, and since it had already been two weeks since Barnes’ arrival, clearly Friday was loathed to admit her perceived inadequacies.

Although according to the intel gathered on Barnes during his time in Romania, he hadn’t exactly lived in the lap of luxury. He highly doubted Hydra cared much for his comfort, and the Forties weren’t exactly overflowing with silken sheets, feather down pillows and Egyptian cotton towels.

“I’m surprised we didn’t realize sooner. He was frozen the entire time he was in Wakanda, I’m pretty sure he’d been defrosted at the airport,” Tony mused, lips quirking at the mental image. “But it would make sense that Barnes hasn’t had nice things before.”

His mind replays the genuine thanks and the smile – and that’s what starts it, really.

Tony’s got a people-pleasing streak a mile wide, making sure Barnes had the softest things in life was a purely selfish endeavor.

(And not at all because he felt a cold seep into his skin at the knowledge that Barnes hadn’t had nice things before which just wouldn’t do when Tony’s a connoisseur of Nice Things.)

He leaves some expensive throw in the living room near where Barnes usually sits, facing the door and in the corner of the couch. Like a creeper, he watches from the Workshop to see if it goes down well.

Barnes eyes it, then lifts the blanket as if to put it aside before bodily pausing.

Tony waits with baited breath as Barnes runs his hands over the material, touching it against his arm before practically collapsing with it on the couch, the throw draped haphazardly across his legs. His eyes are wide, his cheeks are flushed and there’s that smile again –

The association of Barnes and comfort becomes Tony’s little obsession, cemented by the compliment Tony receives about it when he _totally-not-on-purpose_ remembers that he needs sustenance and makes his way to the kitchen:

At first, Barnes has that same cagey look, like Tony’s going to rip the nice-soft-thing away from him, until Tony says casually, “Pep got that for me last year, she’ll be happy to see it actually being used.”

“It feels nice,” Barnes murmurs, “you…you’re really lucky.”

And for whatever reason, _that_ makes Tony flush even when he knows his luck is shit, and he’s just grateful the Gods saw fit to give him friends with better tastes for gifts than him.

Tony isn’t surprised to find that with a smoothie in hand as he leaves the common area that Barnes is practically burrito-rolled in arguably the softest thing in the Tower which, on reflection, just wouldn’t do.

While he couldn’t very well cover every surface in sateen (Pepper veto-ed), he could ensure that everything was at it’s softest and that included getting a new rug that you practically melted into (which Barnes did before lying starfish over it, retorting at Tony’s teasing, “I _want_ it to consume me.”), replacing the throw-pillows with the same feather-down as the ones in the bedrooms and changing out Barnes’ sheets for satin weave (“We’ve worked our way up to it, Fri, he can take it.”).

It shouldn’t have surprised Tony that Barnes’ obsession with soft things extended to soft beings – Rhodey’s baby mini-me included. Not that Barnes could be blamed, Rosalind Rhodes was literally the chubbiest, softest person in existence, and at a year old, she knew it.

Peter had legitimately gasped at the sight of her the first time Rhodey brought his daughter around and had to be held back as he anguished, _“She’s so cute, I want to eat her face.”_

Barnes looked as equally ready to lose it and Tony had promised his best friend that nothing would happen to his little bundle of joy. Not that anything would, Barnes’ expression had shifted from _I wanna squish it_ and _Oh my god, so smol_ to _Oh my god, **how** is it so smol?!_

Adjusting his precious cargo, Tony cooed down at her as she began to fuss.

Possibly because she was in dire need of sleep, was imitating an octopus or surprised at the fact Barnes was hovering over Tony’s shoulder to stare in a mixture of awe and horror at the baby. Tony certainly knew why he was nervous.

As much time as he and Barnes had spent together, physical contact or even closer proximity was something neither of them really dabbled in, even during arm maintenance.

This close, Tony could feel the honestly absurd amount of heat coming off of the Super Soldier, and when Tony rocked back on his heels in an attempt to soothe Rosalind, he hit the actual wall that was Barnes’ chest and – _why am I even surprised that’s a thing?_

Barnes, however, didn’t seem to mind that he could practically smell the permanent cologne of coffee and engine grease coming from Tony, and even reached around him, bare arm resting against his as he brushed his thumb around the apple of her cheek.   

“Rosie, my darling, meet your Uncle Bucky,” Tony introduces.

He shook his head, lifting his chin and correcting, “James.”

“James then,” Tony said with a grin, “just like your Da, huh Rosie?”

Rosalind blew a raspberry in response and giggled, and with Barnes so close – practically plastered to Tony’s back – Tony could actually feel the smile curving at his mouth which Tony was probably returning right until Rosalind reached up and tugged at Tony’s hair without provocation.

“No, no, Rosie – _Rosie_ ,” he tries to scold but is promptly ignored when she only tugged harder. Well what did he expect, she was Carol’s daughter too, he thought with a whimper, meaning to start pacing and bouncing to distract her, but forgetting that James was still all up in his business.

Which was a mistake, honestly.

That Tony had both forgotten that James was there and that he was so close because Tony was definitely not prepared for the live-technicolor-up-close-and-personal shot of James looking like _that._

James probably liked soft things because he could relate to them. Tony could certainly see the resemblance.

His usually glacial blue eyes were cornflower soft, the look in it achingly loving as his mouth pink and sweet, flicked up into a smile and _Jesus, what had Tony done?_

Before he could open his mouth – maybe to apologize, maybe to ask James if he could have his babies, Tony couldn’t wait to hear which came out of his mouth – James reached over, gently easing Rosalind’s hold on Tony’s hair and brushing it back into the upsweep it was styled in for long enough that mini-Rhodes bored of it altogether.

The soft look didn’t change and for an endless twenty-three seconds, no one moved.

But that was as long as Tony could go.

Clearing his throat and taking a shaky breath in as James’ eyes flickered to his mouth, Tony attempted to excuse himself with, “Well, uh – better put her to bed” which, for some reason or another, Rosalind recognized already and wasn’t happy with because she wailed like an air horn siren.

James flinched, and Tony scrambled, bouncing gently as he tucked her back into her blankets, murmuring the lullabies Ana used to sing to him when he woke from nightmares as a kid.

By the time Tony had settled on the couch with baby Rhodes in his lap, he realized James was staring at him, expression slack as he whispered in awe, “ _You speak Russian._ ”

“Sing it, too,” Tony said with a small huff of a laugh. “Figured I should get Rosie started, she’s a genius, you know,” he boasted. “Peter and I spoke in Italian the whole time Rhodey let me babysit and I’m pretty sure she knows she’s my _bambolina._ ” 

Rosalind reacted to it right then too, even if it was just to yawn and then wiggle her butt a little. James, of the same mind, cooed at her in congratulations anyway, adding with a little embarrassed smile, “I read that positive reinforcement is good for kids.”

And Tony could actually feel his own heart seize in his chest as his ears burned and – _Oh, oh no._

Fortunately, Tony doesn’t have much time to freak out about that because it all comes to a head about two days later because of a tie.

“I was gone for an hour. _An hour_.” He had an Accords discussion he couldn’t miss and had to push back his fifth consultation with James  before their meeting with the board for the launch of the Bucky Bear. James insisted he didn’t mind waiting for him in the Workshop and leaving together, and DUM-E needed the company anyway and – okay fine, technically this worked out pretty well, all things considered. At least nothing was on fire.

“You say that like you haven’t done worse in an hour,” he challenges and, “Oh look who we have here, Mr. Sassypants.”

“Sassypants?” James repeats with a raised brow.

Tony scowls. “No judgment, I've had to filter myself around the kids and Pepper says I can’t call people names at board meetings. But seriously not the point, you got motor oil on your tie! We’re going to be late, oh God, that’s a mess, let’s just do this -” Undoing the ruined material, he slipped it out of James’ collared shirt and cast it aside before reaching for his own and unraveling the intricate Eldredge knot until –

“Can I?” 

 “Huh, oh yeah, sure,” he says, all too familiar with James’ tendency towards soft things, and really, with Tony’s penchant for the finer things in life, it’s no surprise that James doesn't look at him until he’s got his hands on him. Instead, James is focused on the way the material of the suit ripples easily to the contact – satin smooth and perfectly lush from the lapels to the grey waistcoat to the tie that’s still hanging around his neck and the dress pants.  James’ hands continue to explore, gaze intense as Tony teases, “You like? it’s Tom Ford.”

“It needs to come off,” James deadpans, hands finally coming to a stop at his belt and –

“…what?”

James lifted his gaze slowly back up to his face with so much intent that Tony feels every look like a physical touch. And then he finally meets Tony’s eyes.

_Oh._

He startles as the leather belt snaps.

“Uh, I hate to break it to you James, but uh, there’s really nothing soft down there -"

James smirks. “I’m counting on it.”

\--------

They’re late for the board meeting.

Neither the tie nor the rest of Tony’s clothes are salvageable.

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. I was working on literally three fics at the same time because I didn't like any of them and asfaufiuahdfoi
> 
> Also, I totally did just fade-to-black that blowjob because I couldn't write it. You caught me. *rings the shame bell*
> 
> [Click here if you want to find out more about my work](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com/)


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